


Déjà You

by TooOftenObsessed



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies), Torchwood
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - No Kaiju, Bar, Crack, Eventual Smut, Lingerie, M/M, Sexual Tension, i'm sorry mr. gorman, sexy cosplay, sexy server
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-09-07 12:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16853977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooOftenObsessed/pseuds/TooOftenObsessed
Summary: Newt Geiszler is a graduate student who can barely pay his rent. So, he gets a job serving drinks in one of Hannibal Chau's high-end nightlubs, but finds himself increasingly distracted as a handsome stranger keeps interrupting his shifts. For some strange reason, this guy keeps showing up in different outfits and using a different name. Is he just that elusive, or is there another explanation?Don't take this seriously. I'm trash and I accept that about myself.





	1. Blue Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feriowind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feriowind/gifts).



A graduate studies research grant was  _ probably _ enough to live on, if you actually sat down and did the math, but who the hell wants to do that? The University of Hong Kong provided dorm-style living for post-grads, but Newton Geiszler had decided ages ago that he was well beyond having roommates. At this point in his life, that'd be almost as sad as living with his parents. Not to mention, a guy can't reasonably expect to get laid if he's in his 30s and still shares a bathroom. So, there really wasn’t anything to do but find himself an apartment near the school to call his own. 

When the agent showed him the hip little studio with a view of the ocean, he signed the contract without a moment's hesitation. There was only one catch: he couldn't actually afford it. At least, not with the modest stipend he was allowed to use for personal expenses. He'd almost entirely depleted his bank account after paying that first month's rent, and one could only eat so much ramen before suffering a stroke brought on by excess sodium intake. So, despite his reluctance to admit that he  _ might  _ have financially over-extended himself, he'd finally accepted that he’d found himself in need of a second job. 

His schedule wasn't particularly conducive to job hunting, given that his nine-to-five slot on weekdays was fully booked. His time at the lab was non-negotiable, not just because of the terms of his contract. Newt loved his work, needed to work on his doctoral thesis, and simply couldn't imagine ever tolerating any job that asked him to compromise his commitment to the Environmental Science department. That left him evenings, which weren't ideal, and weekends, which were. 

A lot of the bars near the University were hiring for bartenders, and that certainly would have been convenient, but they quite sensibly catered to students. Given that Newt was now chipping away at his third Doctorate, it really wouldn’t be appropriate for him to work (and potentially try to hook up) with kids in their early twenties. Besides, it’d be smarter to end up somewhere that had the potential for earning him better tips than serving cheap beer to other broke coeds. 

Newt put out feelers with the other graduate students, trying to see if anyone had a line on something that could fit the bill. Unsurprisingly, it was Tendo Choi from the Electrical Computer Engineering department who ended up coming through. He’d tracked Newt down in the dining hall and slid a bright red business card across the table. Tendo’s face was deadly serious when Newt, who’d been quite contentedly stuffing his face but was thus unable to speak, looked up to cock an eyebrow as if to say “What’s this?”

“I wouldn’t tell just anybody about this, alright, but I think I know you’re cool. You’re cool, right?” Newt had swallowed around a huge mouthful of roast chicken and tried to spit out a reassurance. Tendo finally cracked a smile, laughing a little as Newt nearly choked. “I’m just fucking with you, brother. Well, sort of. The guy who runs the joint is a serious cat who I think is into some real shady extracurriculars, but  _ this _ place is all above-board. Tax shelter or something.”

“What’s the job?” Newt asked as he flipped the card over, inspecting it. The back side bore a funky little embossed dragon above the name of the establishment, 青夢, printed in blue ink. The front had all the relevant contact information, address, phone number, etc. 

“Cocktail server.” Newt started to shake his head and hand the card back, but Tendo held up a hand indicating Newt needed to hear him out. “Yeah, I know there’s plenty of stuff like that around here, I had to be convinced too, but this one is more of a… performative type gig.” Newt’s interest was piqued, but then he frowned and shook his head again. 

“I’m not going to be a  _ stripper _ , Tendo.” Tendo laughed out loud. 

“Well, even though I really think you could make a fortune stripping if you wanted to, that’s not quite what this place is either. I mean, you’d have to be alright being a tad underdressed, but,” Tendo pursed his lips thoughtfully, “I’ve seen you at parties, man. I know you’re, shall we say,  _ comfortable  _ being looked at?” Newt grinned. 

“Hey, I can’t help it if people are absolutely  _ entranced  _ by my ass in short shorts. Sounds promising, anyway. So tell it to me straight, what’s the actual deal?”    
  


“It’s honestly a pretty high-class place, and the customers are rich as hell. You’d be a server, take people’s drink orders, dress a little slutty, flirt a lot, make bank on tips. Here’s the part I think you’re really going to like, though: One Saturday per month is a theme night.” 

“What, like leather daddies or something?” Newt smiled a little at that, trying to picture Tendo running around flirting with a bunch of biker fetishists. Tendo cocked his head thoughtfully. 

“More like leather night... at Comic Con.” Newt glanced back at the card, and finally let his face match Tendo’s conspiratorial grin. 

“I can work with that.”

* * *

During the interview, which was really more of an audition, Newt had stood in Hannibal Chau’s office, trying not to fidget and failing miserably.  The huge man stalked around him in circles, all shining silk and gold-plated shoes, and quizzed him at length about his serving experience, his performance history, and his general personality. Newt’s voice cracked when he answered the questions - Hannibal really was  _ enormous  _ and intimidating and honestly kinda sexy in that new-wave Hong Kong wannabe-zoot suit - but Newt hoped his squeaking would be more endearing than annoying. 

He had spent the better part of an afternoon playing with eyeliner and messing with his hair, and now that he was here he felt horribly inadequate. Newt had faith that he was reasonably attractive, and felt that his personality was enough to make up for whatever physical deficiencies he might have, but he’d never had quite so much riding on his looks before. Tendo had hinted to Newt that there wasn’t a whole lot he could actually do to prepare for the interview. Because of the nature of the job, things really came down to whether or not Hannibal thought Newt was a good fit for  _ Aoi Yume _ . 

When Hannibal’s tone changed, and he switched gears from rapid-fire questioning to listing off rules and regulations, Newt allowed himself to relax just a tad. Nobody tells you the employee codes of conduct unless you’re going to be an employee; right?

“No drinking on the clock, absolutely no drug use of any kind on the premises, and if you wanna hook up with customers you do it on your own time and you do it for free. Your tips are yours, I ain’t messing with those, but you don’t mess with my bottom line neither. You keep the customers happy, flirt with ‘em, make me money, you’ll make money. You break  _ my  _ rules, you’re out.” Hannibal paced back to lean against his desk, staring Newt down with an appraising look. 

Hannibal examined Newt head to toe once again, looking first concerned, then confused, then finally maybe just a little satisfied. Newt was completely unused to enduring this degree of scrutiny. He ran a hand through his hair, tugged at the hem of his shirt, rolled his sleeves up a little further to give himself something to do while he waited. The silence stretched out until it was truly unbearable, and Newt spoke without really meaning to. 

  
“So, does that mean I’m in?” Hannibal grinned, showing his gilded teeth in a vicious smile. 

“Yeah, alright kid, you’re in. Don’t fuck it up. I don’t do second chances.” 


	2. Owen Harper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt gets to experience his first ever Theme Night at the Blue Dream!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This shit is so crazy debauched and horny I kinda have to drop it and run as soon as a chapter is finished so please pardon any major typos, errors, or awkward faces. I may be able to edit when I'm not red from embarrassment, but today is not that day.

It had taken Newt a few weeks to get fully acclimated to the new job. For the first couple weeks, Fridays at the lab found him in less-than optimal condition, even considering that servers weren’t allowed to drink on the job. He'd finally learned how to squeeze in a nap in the afternoon, before heading to the club, and he was finally starting to feel human again. 

As a new employee, he was stuck working Thursday and Friday nights, with the coveted Saturday slots remaining closed to him for two months probation. Tendo had mentioned that the theme nights were the most sought after because they were the most varied, entertaining, and featured the largest tips you might get at  _ Aoi Yume _ . 

Still, even stuck at the bottom of the pecking order, it wasn't a bad gig. Decent pay, great tips if you knew how to get them, and Mr. Chau made sure a pack of stocky gym rats was always on hand should any of the clientele get too handsy. As far as sources of supplemental income went, it really was quite fun. 

The first Saturday for which Newt qualified was Shock Doctor night. It had a vaguely mad scientist or evil doctor kind of vibe, so Newt decided to really slut things up and cobble together a nurse’s outfit. He “borrowed” a white coat and some too-small pale green surgical scrubs from the lab and cut the legs off the pants, leaving a pair of slightly ragged and truly hideous shorts. Unsatisfied, he cut them higher, then higher, until he tried them on and found his ass perhaps a tad more on display than he’d intended. There’s slutty, and then there’s  _ slutty. _

His solution was to buy a cheap pair of white tights at the corner store and slip them on under the booty shorts. Much better, much more subtle and tantalizing than just his bare cheeks peeking out. He pulled out a pair of sewing scissors and proceeded to snip just a few tiny holes in the stockings, creating a series of artistic runs. This action made him feel a touch nostalgic, thinking back to his scene phase back in high school; all fishnets and black eyeliner. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d have some kinda goth night so he could dig out one of his old mesh tops. 

The final touch, after applying a coat of cherry red lipstick, was to remove the rest of the blue polish that had all but chipped off his nails and replace it with a coat of white. Almost as an afterthought, he dipped a toothpick into some red polish and traced a tiny red cross onto the nail on ring finger of his left hand. Perfect. 

* * *

Well into the evening, Newt spotted a man alone at one of the smaller two-tops in a little alcove near the bar. He was momentarily stunned by the razor sharp bone structure, then almost laughed aloud at the calculated way this guy scanned the crowd. He looked as if he was trying to give the impression that he was too good for this bar and was doing everyone a favor just by being there. Newt, however, didn’t buy it. This guy wanted company as much as everyone else in here. 

Newt stalked over, wishing again that he’d remembered to procure some moderately sexy footwear; one simply couldn’t march like a sex kitten in hightop Converse. Oh well, at least they matched his lipstick. The man glanced up when he spotted Newt approaching, and Newt was momentarily flabbergasted by the soft brown eyes gazing up at him under such an artificially haughty brow. All his practiced dialogue died before he could speak, and he licked his bottom lip while he tried to recover from the shot through the heart those eyes had given him. 

“Welcome to Blue Dreams. Never seen you here before.” Newt didn’t phrase it like a question, just a bland statement, and it earned him absolutely no reaction whatsoever. “I mean, I’m new here, so that could be why. You come here often?” Well fuck, if that wasn’t even worse. 

Desperate for something to do with his hands, he fished in his pocket and extracted a bright red lollipop, a final stroke of genius he’d come up with just in time to hop off the bus and hit a gas station. He popped it into his mouth and spun it thoughtfully against his lips, which finally drew a sly little smile from Newt’s companion. This was a smile that completely weakened Newt’s resolve to play it cool, because it transformed that strange, wide mouth into the sexiest thing he had ever seen. 

“I’ve been here a time or two. I can tell you’re new, though.” The man nodded meaningfully down at Newt’s shoes. Newt mentally chided himself a third or fourth time for being so thoughtless. 

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry dude, I’ll leave you alone.” Newt started to turn, wanting to walk away and regroup. 

“No, s’alright, have a seat.” He kicked at the empty chair next to him lightly, nudging it a few inches farther from the table. Newt sat, purposely kicking one leg out before crossing it over the other, lending his guest an extremely convenient view of thigh, hip, and possibly some ass. That little smile quirked up the left corner of his lips again, and Newt was very grateful to be seated in a manner that might conceal his increasingly obvious arousal. 

“What’s your name, stranger?” Newt cringed inwardly; he knew better than to start falling back on these ridiculously transparent one-liners, but this guy was just  _ so _ ridiculously hot, it made him feel like a nervous teenager all over again.

“Owen. And you are?” Newt twirled the sucker again, this time against the very tip of his tongue, before cocking his wrist back away from his head.

“Call me Newt.” Owen laughed aloud. 

“You can’t be serious. Please tell me that’s  _ not _ the name you chose to reel in the unsuspecting innocent patrons of this fine establishment?” The look Owen was giving him was anything but innocent. 

“I mean, no, I guess I should have come up with something better, right?” Newt licked his lips. “It’s my real name. Newton.” Those stunning lips lifted in a surprised smile that quickly melted into a contemplative pout. 

“As in Isaac?” 

“Well, I guess, but I’m more of a biological sciences kinda guy. I’m getting my second doctorate in Marine and Environmental Science.” Now Owen did truly grin, and all the canny wisdom left his expression and he looked positively boyish.

“Well,  _ Doctor _ Newton. That fetching nurse getup is quite misleading. Quite pleased to make your acquaintance. Might I buy you a drink?” Newt popped the sucker back into his mouth and rolled his eyes, feeling more confident since he’d practiced this response before. 

“That’s too sweet of you, but it’s strictly against the rules. I’ve gotta keep my head about me, with all these alluring strangers hanging around. I’d be more than happy to get you another, though.” Newt didn’t phrase it as a question, having learned that the key to upselling was to avoid giving them a real choice. Owen didn’t seem phased, however, and he downed the rest of his drink in one go and shoved the empty glass across the table at Newt. It skittered dangerously toward the edge of the table, and Newt just barely stopped it from crashing to the floor. 

“Be quick about it. I’m not in a terribly patient mood.” His double meaning was hardly subtle, and Newt had to take a quick breath before standing to go and find Tendo. He was leaning against the bar, waiting on a drink order, when Newt came skidding up next to him, Converse squealing on the polished wood of the floor. 

“Tendo! Tendo, man, hey, uh, so Hannibal said no hooking up with customers on the clock, what about off the clock, what should I do?” Tendo gave him a cocky grin and glanced over Newt’s shoulder at the table where Owen was sipping his drink and eyeing Newt with a slightly predatory expression. 

“Well, uh, we’re technically independent contractors, so as long as you’ve made your quota for the night, you can clock out whenever you want.” 

“ _ Shit! _ ” Newt cursed. “I’m nowhere fuckin’  _ near _ my drink quota.” Tendo shrugged.

“Well, you’d better hope your friend is either patient enough to wait or loaded enough to throw the cash your way. If you skip out on your quota, you’re done here.” Newt signaled to the bartender for another one of Owen’s drinks, chewing his lip, heedless of the lipstick he’d so carefully painted on. He didn’t really expect Owen to wait around while he hustled for drink orders and additional tips, nor did he feel comfortable asking him to essentially buy out the rest of his shift. 

He jogged back to the table, handed Owen his drink, and said he’d be back as quick as he could, but he had to make his quota for the night. Owen sipped, eying him over the top of his glass, and shrugged. 

“I can’t make any promises to wait around for you, sweetheart.” 

“I know, I know, just, look, I don’t know, I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

Not another fifteen minutes had gone by before Newt noticed that Owen had company. An apparent couple had teach taken a spot on either side of him, and were clearly deep in some highly flirtatious conversation. Owen grinned back at them both, then caught Newt staring and raised his glass, shrugging apologetically, as if to say “ _ Sorry mate, no help for it. _ ” 

Newt’s last glimpse of him was when he left, arm-in-arm with both of his new companions. 

“Well, that’s just fucking great.” Newt said this mostly to himself, but Tendo was close enough to overhear.

“You’ll get ‘em next time, champ.” Tendo clapped him on the shoulder. Newt wanted to stomp his foot like an angry toddler.

“But what if I never see him again?” Newt whined. Tendo raised his eyebrow.

“I mean the plural, the general, not him specifically.” Newt pouted. “Look, Newt, I got a look at the guy, and sure he’s hot, but he’s not like, full stop love at first sight hot! There’ll be others.” 

Newt wasn’t sure there would be. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is going somewhere, I promise.
> 
> It's largely unedited, so I apologize if it's awful. I'll clean it up when the sun returns.


End file.
